


Drifting

by enthusiasmgirl



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Body Swap, F/M, Genocide, Shyness, Torture, War Crimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 20:03:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4974295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enthusiasmgirl/pseuds/enthusiasmgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Enterprise encounters an alien fugitive, Malcolm Reed is forced to question his role on board Enterprise, as the rest of the crew discover that maybe they don't know him as well as they thought they did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To Be Needed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marmolita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmolita/gifts).



> So why am I posting a fic that hasn't been updated since 2004 here, and with the original formatting intact? Mostly for posterity's sake, really. But also because I know Enterprise fandom is tiny, and because I'm hoping to have it beta'd and hopefully finished at some point so that I can finally say I AM NOT A FIC ABANDONER!
> 
> We will see. Anyway... enjoy what is here of it. Sorry, all you people following me for my Daredevil fics wondering WTF is up.

_Kihran Ushku was a drifter... that had always been his lot in life. And as he thought about it, he realized now that it would most likely be his ending as well. 'How very appropriate' he thought. 'As I began, so shall I end.' However, as Kihran looked back on his journey, he realized that perhaps this was a most merciful end, to die alone, drifting in out and out of consciousness, drifting in space. Abandoned and unwanted by his parents as a child, Kihran had drifted from home to home, from family to family searching for one that would welcome him and make him feel wanted. As the years went by he began to accept that he would never be wanted by anyone. Now, he found himself a wanted man, but not in the way that he wished. As blackness claimed him, however, Kihran could not feel sorry for himself. All he could think about was the fact that the pain, which had once seemed never ending, had finally ceased. And that the silence around him sounded like music. And that for the first time in many years, Kihran had hope. Hope in the form of a small silver machine, hidden away where nobody would ever think to look for it._

_The blackness engulfed Kihran before he had a chance to hear the silence broken by a shrill wail meant to inform him that his ship was being hailed._

* * *

Captain Jonathan Archer stepped briskly out of the turbolift onto the bridge, eager to hear what his senior crew had discovered in his absence. While space exploration could at times be frenetic and dangerous, recently life on the ship had become somewhat boring. After all the recent excitement, the crew was grateful to be back to their original mission of exploration at long last. In the beginning, the peace and quiet of the crew returning to a daily routine was welcome. Movie night was reinstated. People began to smile and relax once again. However, it had been over two months since the ship had come across any planets worth exploring. In that time, the contentment they had experienced at first had worn off. They had all spent the time performing much needed maintenance on the ships systems. However, even the ships systems no longer needed that much attention, as the repairs had been completed rather quickly and efficiently. Captain Archer could tell that his crew was beginning to go a bit stir crazy. Today, however, was proving to be an interesting day as the Captain had awoken to T'Pol's voice telling him they had found something unusual, and that he should come immediately to the bridge.

"Captain," T'Pol stated firmly, her tone cautious and betraying no emotion. "I am detecting a small vessel approximately 2.4 light years from us. It appears to be some form of escape pod."

"Anybody we know?" Captain Jonathan Archer asked casually, stepping out of his chair, as though to get a better look at the small, aged ship that appeared on the view screen in front of him.

"No, Captain. I am not familiar with the ship's design." his Chief Science Officer informed him. "There is one biosign aboard, but it is weak."

The Captain turned to address his Communications officer. "Hoshi, try hailing them" he ordered.

"No response, sir." Hoshi replied.

"Have you detected any sign of a larger ship nearby, Subcommander, or any distress calls?"

"No Captain… There is also no debris or signs of a wreckage within 20 light years of here. It is most unusual."

"Well, where the hell did this pod escape from then?" the Captain asked, his curiosity peaked. He turned to his Armoury officer. "Can we bring the grappler online, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir" Lt. Reed replied, obligingly.

"Let's reel it in and get a medical team to the launch bay" The Captain ordered.

"And a security team as well, I would assume," stated Lt. Reed.

The Captain simply nodded absentmindedly as everybody focused on the task at hand and within moments Enterprise had locked on to the small vessel and hauled it aboard.

* * *

Malcolm Reed was not having a good day. In fact, when it came down to it, Malcolm Reed could not remember the last time he had actually had a good day. But this particular day struck him as being especially horrible.

He had spent all of the previous night working on his forcefield. He had been trying recently to perfect it and adapt it so that it might further secure the brig, and possibly other areas of the ship, but had been making very little progress. After giving up in frustration he had decided to spend some time realigning the targeting scanners to clear his mind. Not that they needed realigning. They were perfect, just as they had been for the past week. The entire armoury was in better condition, in fact, then it had been when the ship had first left space dock four years ago. His staff had been on top of every problem they'd had this past month. He'd even caught them mopping the floor and polishing the equipment. Normally if he had a bit of time, he'd use it to keep everybody up on their training, but it wasn't necessary. His security staff, due to a complete lack of anything else to do for the past two months, were now more than proficient with a variety of small arms and forms of self-defence. His department now had the highest efficiency rating on the ship. All in all, Malcolm was feeling quite useless.

And so last night, he had set his alarm to wake him up a bit later than usual.  _'Why rush to my shift early, only to spend the time doing nothing?'_  he thought. Only his alarm hadn't gone off at all. He had woken up late, and been forced to rush to his bridge shift without showering or eating, and had arrived twenty minutes late despite his efforts. He was certain to be reprimanded for that later. On top of everything, he was late for the first shift in months where any remotely interesting was going on.

' _And of course,'_  thought Malcolm,  _'the Captain wouldn't think to send a security team to meet our visitor without me reminding him. It's not like we've ever encountered anybody hostile before, so why would he?'_  Sarcasm was his friend in this kind of a mood.

And so here he was, standing in the launch bay waiting to see what it was exactly that this escape pod would present. And wishing subconsciously for it to be something dangerous so that he would feel needed again.

* * *

The pod was definitely not from any alien ship that Enterprise had ever encountered. That much could be agreed upon by everybody in the room. It was long and cylindrical, made of a rough red metal and dented and beaten in on all sides. It was barely big enough for a human, but big enough perhaps to survive in.  _'If, that is, the alien inside of it bears any resemblance to a human.' thought Malcolm._  At one end of the cylinder was the outline of a door, easily spotted. Whatever was inside, it would be out soon enough.

"Somebody help me get it open," Captain Archer demanded, pushing on the door looking for an opening. His chief engineer, Trip Tucker, handed him a plasma torch and the two of them began to slowly cut away the door.

A gasp could be heard as the pod door opened, and a whir of machinery could be heard inside the small ship. Malcolm and the other two members of his security team noticeably tensed, their hands instinctively going for the phase pistols at their sides Captain Archer and Trip barely had time to back away before a small section of the pod was ejected out of the door revealing a bizarre looking humanoid alien nestled inside.

It was slightly smaller than a human and had pale green skin, mottled and rough like the skin of a pineapple, covered in discoloured patches. It had thick black hair that ran all the way down to its shoulders in chunks, long and rope-like. Its hands contained only three thick fingers, with nails like a cats, sharp on the ends. However, despite the intimidating nature of his features, it was clear that this alien was very frail. Most importantly however, this alien was very clearly unconscious and bleeding.

"Doctor," Archer said as Doctor Phlox pushed by him to scan and observe his newest patient.

As he ran his scanner over the alien, the crew present could only watch quietly as the doctor worked quickly, making the occasional noise as he came across something interesting. Finally, he turned to the Captain.

"Captain, we have to get this man to sickbay immediately."

* * *

The sickbay lights were harsh and uninviting, reminding Malcolm once again why he hated the place so much. Well, that was one of the reasons. The other was standing right in front of him, tending to his patient and grinning like the Cheshire Cat, unaware of the black cloud hanging over Malcolm's head _. 'How can he possibly be so bloody cheerful all the time?'_  thought Malcolm.

"Well Doctor, what can you tell us?" the Captain asked.

"It is lucky, Captain, that we found that escape pod when we did. If our friend here's wounds and injuries had gone unattended much longer, he would have died."

"What happened to him, Doc? I mean, where'd his ship go?" asked Trip.

"I can't tell you the location of the ship, Mr. Tucker, but I can tell you what happened to my patient. Although I'm not sure how much help that information will be."

"What do you mean?" the Captain asked.

"Well Captain, judging by the pattern of the bruising and the broken bones I would say that this man was beaten, rather severely."

"Beaten?" asked Malcolm, his curiosity peaked.

"Yes," replied the Doctor. "And quite possibly tortured as well, judging by some of the burn marks on his arms."

The room went silent for a moment as this information was processed.

"Maybe it's a good thing that there's no sign of his ship, then." the Captain said, disturbed by the revelation. "Can you help him Doctor?"

"He should be fine. I've stopped the internal bleeding, and set some of the broken bones. The swelling is beginning to go down. I'll have him good as new in no time at all."

"That's good, because I have more than a few questions for him. For now however, let's all leave the doctor to his patient."

As everyone began to file out of the room, Malcolm pulled the Captain aside. "Captain," he said respectfully, "Permission to post a security team in sickbay."

The Captain took a moment to consider Malcolm's request before answering. "Not this time, Lieutenant." he informed him.

"Beg your pardon, sir?" Malcolm asked.

"Under the circumstances I'd have to say no, Malcolm." the Captain replied. "That man in there has clearly been abused and held prisoner. Waking up on a strange ship and seeing an armed security team may panic him. Besides Lieutenant, he's clearly in no condition to present a danger to anybody." the Captain stated.

"I disagree sir. We have no idea how quickly he'll heal, or why he's in this condition in the first place. If you're concerned about him panicking, I don't have to have my men in sickbay. I could post them just outside the doors, sir." Malcolm argued.

"I just don't think it would be a good idea, Lieutenant."

"But sir," Malcolm plead.

"I understand why you feel we should be careful Malcolm, but I've made my decision on this." With this, the Captain quickly left down the hallway, leaving a silently fuming security officer behind him.

* * *

Later that day, Malcolm sat in the mess hall drinking his coffee as usual, alone. In front of him was a padd full of data on his forcefields. However despite his attempts to focus, he could not get his mind off of the conversation with Captain Archer in sickbay. His argument with the Captain was certainly not unusual. They often clashed over the matter of the ships security.  _'Why did that argument sting so much then?'_  thought Malcolm, his foul mood becoming worse. Before he could contemplate the answer to that question however, he was joined at his table by Ensign Sato holding a plate of food, who seemed oblivious to the fact that there was a reason Malcolm had chosen to sit alone.

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

"Well, actually Ensign…" But Malcolm could tell before the sentence was even out of his mouth that Hoshi would have been disappointed and angry if he brushed her off. And for some reason Malcolm couldn't understand, it wouldn't feel right to have Hoshi mad at him. "Go ahead."

Hoshi took a seat across from him, and slowly began picking at her food, looking to Malcolm for conversation. Malcolm chose instead to go back to his work. An awkward silence settled over the table. Finally, Hoshi looked up from her food. "What are you working on?" she asked him. He didn't respond. "Malcolm!" she said firmly to get his attention.

"Sorry…" he said distractedly.

"What's so important that you have to work on it over your lunch break?" she asked seriously.

"Specs for the forcefield." he replied.

"The one you used when that creature attacked the Captain and Commander Tucker?" she asked.

"You should really be more specific Ensign. A great many creatures have attacked the Captain and Commander Tucker over the course of our voyage," he replied, harsher than he had intended, "But I know which one you mean. And yes it is the same forcefield."

"I hadn't realized you were still working on that." she stated, clearly stung by his attitude.

"I'm attempting to adapt it so that we can put it into practical use on the ship. In the brig for example, or to protect certain areas of the ship in the event that we're boarded." he told her. "It's taking a bit longer than I anticipated. There are a lot of variables to work out."

An uncomfortable silence once again settled over the table, and Malcolm resumed his work. Finally, he broke the silence. "I'm sorry Ensign. I'm afraid I'm not the best company today." he told her.

"Why's that?" she asked.

"I'm not having a very good day."

"Yeah," Hoshi said sympathetically. "I noticed you were late for your shift this morning. That's not like you Malcolm."

"I overslept. The damned alarm didn't go off," he informed her, "Finding that escape pod didn't make the day any better."

"Is that what's bothering you?" Hoshi asked him. "Why would that bother you? You've dealt with worse things before. Even I've dealt with worse things before. This situation seems pretty harmless compared to some of the things we've faced."

"You don't have to tell me that Ensign. I know that," He snapped, "I'm not sure what's bothering me about it. I just have a feeling that this alien will be more trouble than he's worth."

"Have you talked to the Captain about this?" she asked, innocently.

At this, Malcolm could no longer be polite. "Of course I talked to the Captain about this! I informed him of my opinion as soon as the situation became clear, very respectfully I might add. And he very respectfully blew me off!"

"I'm sure the Captain considered your suggestions very carefully before he made a decision Malcolm. He wouldn't just blow you off." Hoshi told him, concerned by his anger.

"Right. I'm sure he did. The same as he has considered my suggestions in the past, when we've encountered the Klingons, or the Suliban for example. Apparently the Captain didn't learn anything from any of those situations." he told her, losing control of himself.

"Malcolm, I really think you're not seeing things clearly. If you would just look at things from a diplomatic perspective, instead of immediately thinking the worst…" she pleaded, but he interrupted her.

"So I'm a pessimist, is that it? Well, it would be nice to be able to look at things from the diplomatic perspective, Hoshi. But I can't do that. I have a responsibility to protect this crew above anything else. And so does the Captain. I wish he'd remember that sometimes." At this Malcolm excused himself from the table, embarrassed and left the mess hall for the safety of his quarters, where nobody else would have to put up with his rotten mood _. 'I guess it's true. Misery really does love company.'_  he thought as he left an upset Hoshi sitting alone in the mess hall, who didn't have time to finish her lunch before her break ended.

* * *

Kihran slipped back into consciousness slowly, his eyes stinging as they attempted to adjust to the light. This light, though, was a bright soft light, so unlike the blackness of his pod. To Kihran's eyes, it was the light of heaven _. 'I've been saved'_  he thought _. 'A ship has answered my call. My day has finally come.'_  The pain which had been so persistent earlier had dulled considerably, and Kihran noticed that his movements were less restricted, however his arms were restrained to the bed. As his eyes focused he could make out a ceiling, grey and spotless above him. He turned his head slowly and made out the form of a bed next to his. Nobody was on it. Behind the bed, he could see a variety of creatures in cages.  _'How peculiar,'_  he thought.  _'What odd species resides here, that they would care for all these lesser creatures?'_  Perhaps, he considered, this was some form of laboratory. His considerations were cut short by a voice coming from his other side. Somebody was talking, but it sounded like gibberish. Kihran took a brief moment to understand the voice. As he turned his head his eyes were met by those of an alien. He was pleasant looking, with ridges at his eyes and a curious smile on his face.

"Hello there." The alien spoke to him. "I'm Doctor Phlox. You are on my ship, Enterprise. We rescued you from your escape pod. I realize that you probably can't understand me, as I cannot translate your language yet. But rest assured you are safe here. Soon Ensign Sato will be here and she can tell you that in your own language." The man chuckled to himself, not realizing that Kihran had understood every word he had said.

The doctor turned his back on Kihran and become occupied with several of the caged creatures _. 'Now,'_  thought Kihran,  _'I must finish what I started.'_  He quickly dislocated his wrists and slipped his arms easily out of the restraints, snapping them back into place when he finished. He reached to the table next to his bed and picked out a hypospray. The Doctor did not have time to even turn around before he was unconscious on the floor.

' _Finally,'_  thought Kihran  _'I will get my second chance.'_ He slipped out the sickbay doors and headed towards the shuttlebay. Nobody even noticed he was gone.

* * *

"We're being hailed, sir." Hoshi informed the Captain, her tone serious.

"Put them through, Ensign." the Captain ordered her. This was becoming a very interesting day. He hoped that Phlox could handle his patient for a few more minutes. It appeared Hoshi was going to be needed here.

A rather menacing looking alien appeared onscreen. He was black as the night, with pronounced ridges over his eyes, on his chin and running down his face. His eyes were yellow.  _'The same as the Suliban's eyes,'_  Malcolm noted from his place at the tactical station. "We are the Karatesh from Bahrat. We are looking for an escaped prisoner. He is most dangerous. We have detected that he is aboard your vessel. Please relinquish him to us immediately or we will destroy your ship."

' _Well,'_  thought Malcolm, automatically readying the weapons,  _'These people certainly don't beat around the bush.'_

"T'Pol," the Captain inquired, looking to her for how to proceed.

"Their ship is made of the same alloy and composition as the escape pod currently in our shuttlebay, Captain. It is reasonable to assume that the man currently in sickbay came from this ship." she stated evenly.

The Captain took a moment to decide how to proceed. His first thought was that he couldn't simply hand a beaten and abused man over to his tormentors, even if he was their prisoner. His second was that he needed more information on the man he had in sickbay before he could do anything. He decided to take the diplomatic approach. "My name is Captain Jonathan Archer. This is my ship, Enterprise. We didn't know who it was that we brought aboard. We were simply answering a distress call. And right on time too. Your 'prisoner' was dying."

"You should have allowed him to die. He would not have been mourned." the Karatesh stated angrily. "Return our prisoner now." the Karatesh demanded.

"We'll do so gladly," the Captain replied, choosing his words carefully, "However; we would be interested to know why this man is a prisoner aboard your ship first. I would hate to send a man into certain death without knowing why." Perhaps, he had not chosen them carefully enough. To his surprise, the Karatesh laughed at his comment.

"You are a most honourable man, Captain. I would feel the same way, if it were any other man. However Kihran Ushku is no ordinary man. He is a mass-murderer Captain, cold-blooded and calculated as they come. He is a war criminal. He cannot be allowed to roam free. If it means destroying your ship and killing your crew in order to kill him, we will do it. Trust me Captain, this man is not worth that."

"Somehow I don't doubt you." the Captain stated, understanding. He looked at Malcolm briefly, and knew his glance had been understood. Malcolm slipped out from behind his station and headed quickly to the lift. "We'll send your prisoner over in a shuttle with a security team."

"We would prefer to pick him up ourselves, Captain," the Karatesh told him. "He is a desperate, dangerous man Captain. We cannot risk him escaping again."

"Understood." replied Captain Archer. And he meant it.

* * *

Malcolm bolted out of the turbolift onto E-Deck, meeting up with several members of his security team already on their way to sickbay.  _'A dangerous criminal'_  thought Malcolm.  _'A bloody mass-murderer! And the Captain just left him in sickbay with the doctor.'_ One of his team handed him a phase pistol and they slowly made their way towards the sickbay doors _. 'At least it's all over now,'_  he thought.  _'We'll escort him to his own ship and that will be that.'_

This was definitely not Malcolm's day. Upon entering sickbay two things were immediately clear. One, that Phlox was unconscious on the floor. And two, that his patient was nowhere to be found. Malcolm's team proceeded to look over the entire sickbay. He was gone.

Malcolm pulled out his communicator. "Reed to Archer."

"What is it Lieutenant?" Archer asked.

"He's not here, sir. From the looks of things, he attacked Phlox and took off." Malcolm informed him.

"Have your team start searching the ship, and give us a minute to scan for his biosign. T'Pol may be able to isolate where it is." the Captain stated.

' _If he's still on the ship at all,'_ Malcolm thought darkly, assembling his team to give them instructions. As he sent them all off to start searching he realized that perhaps there was some truth in that thought.  _'If I were in his shoes, I would want to get off of this ship as quickly as possible.'_ He took off for the launch bay, hoping to catch up to knowing he would never be able to live with himself if a dangerous war criminal escaped from his ship.

* * *

He was there. He was exactly where Malcolm thought he would be, in the launch bay hunched over the systems trying to reroute them. Malcolm pulled his phase pistol and aimed very carefully. "Don't move." he stated clearly. Kihran tensed slightly. "Put your hands on your head and turn around or I will shoot you."  _'What's the use?'_  thought Malcolm,  _'He can't understand me. But he does understand the weapon pointed at him.'_

He was surprised when Kihran did as he had asked, very slowly turning to face him with his hand behind his head. Malcolm pulled out his communicator with his free hand and flipped it open. "Reed to Archer."

"We know where he is Malcolm. He's in the launch bay," replied the Captain. "Meet us there."

"Why don't you meet me, sir." Malcolm replied. "I've already got him."

He put his communicator away, staring into the cold eyes of a murderer. He was shocked when Kihran spoke. In perfect English. "I suppose my ship will be here to pick me up soon." he stated quietly.

"You speak English? How is that possible?" asked Malcolm, perplexed.

"How is this ship possible? How is it possible that I am standing here? Or that we are breathing?" Kihran asked. "What is your name? Reed was it?"

"Don't try anything. There are more men coming to back me up. They'll be here in a second." Malcolm said, slightly scared by this man.

"They'll be too late." Kihran stated. And with that, he lunged at Malcolm, a blur that even Malcolm's sharp reflexes could not catch on time. His phase pistol flew out of his hand across the shuttlebay floor. He went down, with Kihran on top of him. He struggled but the alien was unexpectedly stronger than him, and despite his bad condition did not seem to feel much pain. As Malcolm struggled to grasp his phase pistol just out of arms length and gain the upper hand, he did not notice Kihran run his palm along his belt buckle, leaving a big red slice in the man's hand. Out of the slice, a small silver sliver slid from under the skin into Kihran's bloody palm. Kihran forced Malcolm down, yanked his arm up and forced the tiny piece of metal into Malcolm's palm harshly, cutting it wide open. "I will have my second chance." Kihran stated angrily.

Malcolm's body suddenly went numb. He couldn't feel anything. Or move anything. He couldn't twitch a finger, or blink his eyes. For a brief moment, he couldn't breath. His lungs heaved and he gasped for air that simply wouldn't come. And then, white-hot pain, as though he had been hit by a bolt lightning, searing him from the top of his head, down his spine, to the tips of his toes, burning him alive from the inside out, making him want to scream and beg for mercy. Only he couldn't. And then he knew nothing.

* * *

Captain Archer rushed through the launch bay doors followed by three members of Malcolm's security team, all bearing phase pistols. They immediately spotted what they were looking for and rushed over only to find that they weren't really needed. There standing over the unconscious body of Kihran Ushku was Malcolm, his phase pistol aimed at the man's head, breathing heavily and looking very ragged and beaten down. He and Kihran were both covered in blood and the Captain could see that Malcolm's hand was bleeding rather profusely.

"What happened?" the Captain demanded to know.

"He tried to take me down, Captain. Lunged at me. But I got the upper hand. Has his ship docked yet?"

"Any minute now." the Captain replied.

"Good. I want him off this ship immediately, sir." Malcolm stated angrily.

"I think I can easily arrange that, Lieutenant." the Captain agreed.

* * *

Captain Archer watched as the Karatesh hauled their unconscious prisoner aboard their ship. It was finally over. Malcolm observed the scene next to him, his face sombre.  _'I guess I owe Malcolm an apology,'_  Archer thought.  _'He was right about putting a security team in sickbay. And he got hurt because I didn't listen to him.'_ If there was one emotion that would drive the Captain to purge his emotions and become a Vulcan, it would be guilt. And at that moment it was overwhelming him.

"I'm sorry Malcolm", he stated quietly.

"About what, sir?" Malcolm asked, looking at him innocently.

' _Well,'_  thought the Captain,  _'I'm glad to know Malcolm's not going to hold this against me.'_

The Karatesh officer who the Captain had spoken to earlier stepped forward. "I apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused you Captain Archer. I am glad that you co-operated and we were not forced to destroy your ship. Perhaps we will meet again some day, under better circumstances."

"Perhaps," Archer stated, and shook his hand firmly. The Karatesh stepped briskly away and got into his ship. The Captain and Malcolm watched out an observation window as it left Enterprise and jumped to warp.

* * *

_He was cold. Freezing in fact. His shirt had disappeared. That was the first thing he was aware of as he regained consciousness. And he hurt. All over. The pain was intense. His entire body was throbbing with it. It was almost too much effort to open his eyes and take in his surroundings, but as he did one thought ran through his head. 'This is wrong,' he thought. 'This is very wrong.' The ceiling was black, and dirty, with one lone light bulb hanging down, swinging back and forth casting sharp shadows. He was leaning against a jagged stone wall; he could feel the rough stones digging into him, cutting him. He was restrained. The chains were heavy, it felt like iron. He could barely lift his arms or legs from the weight of them. The floor underneath him was covered in dirt. 'How long have I been unconscious?' he wondered. 'How did I get here?' His thoughts jumbled together in his mind, and he was stricken with intense panic, and fear like he had never experienced before._

_Voices. A man's voice. He had heard that voice before, but he could not place it. It was booming, and loud. It scared him. Footsteps as the man came into the room. Without energy to look up, he simply saw his feet. Big boots, covered in dirt. He stared at them and tried to get the energy to look up at his captor, but those boots unexpectedly slammed into his bare stomach, preventing him from doing so. "You will pay, Kihran, for that escape attempt. You will pay dearly."_

_He didn't understand and he couldn't breath, the wind had been knocked out of him. He gasped for breath desperately, only to find his hair yanked painfully up by a large hand. And he found himself staring into a face as black as night, into cold yellow eyes. 'Yellow like the Suliban's' he thought, realization dawning._

_His captor pulled a knife from his belt. "Now Kihran," his captor said, "I will make you bleed for every person who bled because of you."_

_And Malcolm Reed screamed in agony._


	2. Trading Places

Malcolm slowly awoke in the darkness of the cell hours later, shivering and crying softly. His arms were numb in their chains, the awkward position they were held in having drawn the blood from them. His entire body throbbed. Slowly he began to regain awareness, disturbed and scared as he remembered where he was. He could feel it now. He could sense it with every fibre of his being. He could feel that the shape and the size of this body were not right. His hands were all wrong; there were not enough fingers on them. His legs were longer. His skin was rougher. Even the language that came out of his mouth when he attempted to speak was foreign to him.  _'This body is not mine,'_  he thought.  _'This life is not mine. This pain is not mine.'_ But somehow they were.

His tormentor had left, presumably having lost interest after Malcolm had blacked out. Malcolm could feel the blood pooling around him, sticking damply to his skin.  _'Not my blood,'_  he thought, but knowing that brought him no comfort. The pain was searing. His captor had shown him no mercy, cutting deeply into Malcolm, being skilled enough to know how to twist the knife to cause the most pain to his victim. For over an hour the man had tortured him in this manor, gaining a perverse enjoyment from listening to Malcolm scream, until he had lost consciousness.

As the memory of it flooded back to him, Malcolm couldn't hold back the choking sob that caught in his throat. He didn't understand this. One moment he was struggling with Kihran Ushku in Enterprise's launch bay, and then he had woken up in this nightmare, stuck in the wrong body. What was going on? Where was Enterprise?

Suddenly, Malcolm could hear the sound of the large metal doors being unlocked and opened. An uncontrollable fear seized him, and he sobbed harder, his body convulsing against the chains, causing him more pain. He could hear footsteps approaching him; however it was not his torturer who spoke to him.

"Kihran…" said the voice, soft and masculine. The stranger crouched down in front of Malcolm, cupping his face in his rough hands and wiping his tears away. Malcolm tried to pull back, sickened, but the chains held him tightly in place. Malcolm could see that he was Karatesh, the same as his tormentor, but his hair was much lighter and he was built differently. There was something very different about this man. He did not look as if he intended to hurt Malcolm.

"Poor Kihran... does it hurt? Why would you try to escape, Kihran? Were you unhappy here? Did we not treat you well?" he asked. This question confused Malcolm. It didn't make any sense.

"You tortured me." he stated, the words somehow coming out in the language of the man in front of him instead of English.

"We didn't want to. You tried to escape. We warned you what would happen." the man stated calmly.

"No, you didn't." Malcolm stated, the words requiring an enormous amount of effort. "You didn't warn me, because I am not Kihran Ushku."

The man laughed heartily at his comment, as though Malcolm had just told him a hilarious joke. "If you are not Kihran Ushku, then tell me who are you?"

"My name is Malcolm Reed," Malcolm replied, finding that saying the words somehow made it clearer. "I'm a senior officer on the starship Enterprise."

The man stood up, motioning to the man next to him, Malcolm's tormentor from before, clearly some kind of guard. Malcolm felt the chains around his arms and legs released, allowing the circulation to come back to his arms. A feeling of relief washed over him.  _'They believe me,'_  he thought.

"If you are Malcolm Reed," asked the man, "then where is Kihran Ushku?"

The question caused Malcolm some alarm. He hadn't thought about that until this moment. "I don't know." he replied. The guard's massive arms grabbed Malcolm and yanked him to his feet. Malcolm's frail and bleeding body however, would not cooperate forcing the guard to hold him up painfully. Malcolm was startled to find himself slammed against the wall harshly, the jagged stone cutting into his already open and infected cuts, causing him to scream and gasp. The man stepped towards him, leaning into him closely. Malcolm could feel the warm breath in his ear as the man spoke.

"Usually your lies are more thought out Kihran. You must be getting very desperate." he stated, and Malcolm was pulled away from the wall and dragged painfully out of the room by the guard. "Kiva Dorian has given instructions to take you to the laboratory." The guard told him gruffly. As he looked up at the smug face of Kiva Dorian still in the cell, a disturbing thought crossed his mind.  _'If I am here, then where is Kihran Ushku?'_ Before he could follow that train of thought any further however, the pain consumed him, and he lost consciousness once more.

* * *

Kihran Ushku walked tentatively into sickbay, peering around cautiously for the doctor. It was early, and he wasn't sure if the doctor would be in yet. The injuries he had inflicted on Mr. Reed the day before were making him quite sore, and he was worried about the cut on his hand becoming infected. 'I am certain though, that Mr. Reed's injuries will be much worse than mine now,' he thought, rather guiltily. He could not believe his luck. So far, nobody had questioned his identity. The Captain had in fact made great haste in escorting who he thought was an alien prisoner off of the ship. The Karatesh had not returned looking for him either.  _'Of course, why would they?'_  thought Kihran,  _'They have their prisoner.'_  The Captain had very kindly allowed Kihran to retire to his quarters to recover and sleep after the incident in the launch bay, which Kihran found most useful. He had spent the time going over the ship's logs and personnel files. As it turned out, Malcolm Reed was a most interesting man. His personal logs were sparse, but the information he kept on the ship and its crew were exhaustive. Kihran had enjoyed going over the copies of his various official reports, reading about Malcolm's various adventures during his time aboard Enterprise. The more he read, the more he realized he had made the right decision in using his device on Mr. Reed at the last minute.  _'I think I'll fit in quite nicely here,'_  Kihran thought. He was looking forward to his first shift in the armoury, and getting a chance to examine the ship's weapons firsthand. Weapons had always intensely fascinated him, and he was certain that he could upgrade the weapons aboard Enterprise extensively, given the chance.

Just then Doctor Phlox appeared as if from out of nowhere, startling him. "Aah, Lieutenant. How nice to see you again. And so soon after your last visit! I hope you're not hurting yourself on purpose just to visit with me. Mind you, it would explain the amount of time you spend here." the doctor exclaimed gleefully. His sarcasm was lost on the alien.

"It's a pleasure to see you again as well, Doctor." he told him, hopping up onto a biobed, and allowing Phlox to take his hand.

"Let's have a look here," the doctor said, examining Kihran's hand curiously. "How exactly did this happen? I can understand the bruising and the scrapes. It must have been quite a fight. This cut, however…"

"His belt," Kihran explained quickly. "It was very sharp. I cut myself on it."

"Aah." The doctor said, without question. "Well, normally I would utilize one of my Quetzali slugs on a wound like this. It would help prevent infection and allow it to heal very quickly. However, as I know your strong dislike of my "menagerie" as you call it, I'll stick to a simple antibacterial cream."

' _That explains the zoo he keeps,'_  thought Kihran.  _'Most fascinating.'_  "Actually," he told the doctor, "if you think that your slug would help me heal faster, please go ahead."

"Are you certain, Mr. Reed?" the doctor inquired.

"Of course." Kihran stated plainly. He was disconcerted when the Doctor began running a scanner over his head. "Is there something wrong, Doctor?" he asked.

"I'm just checking for head injuries. That's the only way I can think of that would explain your change of heart towards my creatures." Phlox replied jokingly, causing Kihran to smile.

"I assure you, Doctor I am fine. Are you OK?" he asked politely.

"I'm fine," Phlox replied rather sheepishly. "The hypospray our alien friend used on me was quite potent, but I wasn't injured. I simply got a nice long nap. One less day to hibernate this year." He took a slimy looking slug from a basin on the counter, and brought it over, motioning for Kihran to hold out his hand. While he may have tried to act as though he was fine, the doctor was clearly a bit disconcerted.

"I'm sorry," said Kihran, and he was sincere.

"You shouldn't be, Lieutenant." the doctor replied. "You couldn't have known what would happen. Nobody could have. The Captain decided not to post security. He felt as though I'd be safe. And frankly, so did I. Perhaps the next time you run self-defence training for the crew I might join you. I don't intend on allowing something like that to happen again. Some training might prove useful."

"I'll make sure to include you the next time I upgrade the training. In fact, I could even give you a couple of personal lessons if you wanted. To help you catch up." Kihran told him, intending to keep his word.

"Thank you, Malcolm," the doctor told him, as the slug excreted some kind of fluid onto Kihran's wound.

"So tell me Doctor," Kihran asked, "how exactly does this slug help my injury?"

The doctor began explaining the method the slug used to speed up the healing process in great detail, Kihran asked questions, interested. The next hour was spent in animated conversation as Doctor Phlox explained to an enraptured Kihran the various aspects of human physiology and biochemistry.

* * *

Kihran had left sickbay very pleased. The doctor had been most interesting company. He had asked him to join him for breakfast, which had given the man quite a shock. Apparently he and Mr. Reed did not have the closest of friendships. Phlox had politely declined, telling him that his animals needed tended to. He had also checked again for signs of a head injury, much to Kihran's amusement.

They had said goodbye, and Kihran had made his way to the mess hall, intending to find something to eat, wondering how to satisfy his curiosity for human food without making people suspicious of him. The doctor had accepted Malcolm's change in attitude without question, however he didn't know Malcolm as well as some of the crew were certain to. In the end, he decided to put a little bit of everything on his plate, and took a seat in a corner, hoping to quietly review the blueprints of the ship's torpedoes before his shift. However he was interrupted by the sound of an irritated feminine voice. "May I sit here, or are you going to bite my head off again?" Hoshi demanded.

"I'm sorry," Kihran looked up, confused.

"You better be. I don't think I deserved the attitude I got yesterday, Lieutenant," she said sitting down, "although I guess given what happened, your attitude was justified."

He recognized her. He had gone through all the personnel files the night before.  _'Ensign Hoshi Sato,'_  he remembered,  _'the ship's linguist. The photo in her file does not do her justice_.' He thought, trying not to stare. She was quite pretty.

"Are you OK Malcolm?" she asked, somewhat exasperated. It took Kihran a moment to register that she was talking to him.

"I'm fine. What would make you think I wasn't OK?" he asked quickly, worried that she knew that he wasn't Malcolm.

"Yesterday." she stated. "The argument with the Captain, feeling like he wasn't concerned enough about security. You seemed pretty upset. And then getting into that fight trying to subdue that alien criminal… I was worried about you Malcolm." Her tone became tender, and Kihran wondered if perhaps Malcolm had been involved with this woman.

"I'm fine," he said, taking her hand across the table to observe her response. After all, he couldn't simply ask her if they were romantically involved. She took it instinctively, moving her other hand to cover his. "You just caught me in a bad mood. That's all. I'm feeling much better now, especially since that horrible alien is off the ship." he told her, hoping that he wasn't overdoing things.

Hoshi seemed to realize at that moment that their hands were intertwined, and pulled them back uncomfortably.  _'Perhaps we're not involved then.'_  thought Kihran. 'A shame.' "So," Hoshi asked him, "what's with all the food?" She pointed at his full plate, covered in eggs, bacon, ham, pancakes, toast and sausage. "Usually you just have the pancakes with peanut butter." She made a face at the words "peanut butter", her distaste for his usual choice in food clear.

"I'm just trying something new," he told her. "I was getting a bit tired of the same old thing all the time." He hoped that she believed him.

"I think I know what you mean. Sometimes you just need a change." she said, sympathizing with him. "So, did you hear about the planet that our sensors found? The Captain says that it's Minshara class. We may finally get the chance to do some exploring again! There's no life besides vegetation, but still it could be interesting." She sounded excited. He told her he was excited as well. The two of them continued their conversation as they finished their breakfasts, speculating as to what they would find on the unknown planet and enjoying each others company until it was time for their shifts.

As he walked to the armoury, Kihran could not help smiling. He felt happy, for the first time in a great many years _. 'I think I am really going to enjoy living aboard Enterprise.'_  he thought to himself, whistling as he stepped into the turbolift.

His shift in the armoury flew by, the possibilities of implementing and engineering the various upgrades to make the ship safer and better prepared for battle if necessary, exciting him. His enthusiasm was apparently infectious as he caught the armoury crew smiling as much as he was, working hard to please him, apparently unused to their boss being in such good spirits. However, he found his focus on the weapons and the crew periodically interrupted by images of the beautiful young Asian woman who had graced his presence at breakfast _. 'I am definitely going to enjoy living aboard Enterprise.'_ he thought again later that day as he ate dinner in his quarters, picking up Malcolm's work on the forcefield where it had been left off.

* * *

Malcolm slowly awoke in a strange room, which appeared to be some kind of science laboratory. As he looked around, he could see that there were various chemicals and equipment covering the counters along the walls, and there was a biobed in the centre of the room. As his senses returned, he was surprised to find that he was not restrained in any way, and that there were no guards in the room with him. He was lying on a bed, covered with a blanket. While he was unconscious, somebody had even tended to his cuts, washed and bandaged them, so that he was no longer covered in blood.  _'What in bloody hell is going on here?'_  he thought, very confused. He stood up carefully, bracing himself as a wave of nausea hit him. He stumbled to the nearby sink just in time, vomiting painfully. He hurt. All over. He had never been in this much pain in his life. He wanted desperately to be back on Enterprise, in sickbay. He wanted to hear the Doctor's voice reassuring him that he would be fine, informing him that he'd spend the next month off duty. But that wasn't going to happen. He was going to have to deal with this situation, for the moment.

' _If I am here,'_  he thought, turning the tap on in the sink and watching the water mix with his vomit and swirl down the drain _, 'then Kihran must be still on Enterprise. That's the most logical conclusion. Unless I'm dead. But then where is he?'_ Thinking about it was only making him more nauseous. _'If he is on Enterprise,_ ' his mind wandered, _'then the crew is in grave danger. And they don't even know anything's wrong.'_ He vomited again, his body aching from the effort of it _. 'Wait… what am I thinking,'_  his thoughts continued optimistically, _'of course they'll know something's wrong. They'll figure out that the person occupying my body is not me, and they'll come for me. Remember what Trip said. Think happy thoughts.'_ But somehow he didn't think that happy thoughts were going to help him in this situation. And there were simply too many variables. He didn't even know for sure that they had switched bodies. Anything could have happened to bring him here. His tortured mind however, didn't care about the variables right now.  _'Enterprise will come and rescue me. They will. They have to.'_

At that moment the door behind him opened and somebody entered the room. He didn't have the energy to turn around and see who it was, but when the person spoke, he recognized the voice. "Are you feeling better Kihran?" Kiva Dorian asked him.

"I'm not Kihran." Malcolm stated plainly. These people must believe him.

"I usually admire your persistence, Kihran. But continuing this lie is foolish." was the man's reply..

"What do you want from me?" Malcolm asked desperately.

"You know what I want, Kihran. I want you to finish what you started." Kiva Dorian told him.

"I don't understand." Malcolm told him, wanting answers.

Kihran slowly approached him, his voice echoing in Malcolm's head. "We had a deal, Kihran. You broke it. Your knowledge of weapons and bio-toxins is extensive and well-known throughout many worlds. All we wanted was for you to help us design a bio-weapon to defeat the Jixan people and end the war, a relatively simple task for a man as brilliant as yourself. What we asked you to design was nowhere near as complicated as the Taknah Plague you inflicted on our colony. You would have died in that prison, Kihran. Slowly and painfully. We helped you to escape from there. We would have let you go Kihran, once you had done what we asked. We are men of our word. It is a shame that you are not."

Malcolm's desire for answers was satisfied, but he wasn't. He was disgusted. These people wanted him to engineer a plague. That is what Kihran had been doing aboard this ship. He had been helping them to design a disease which would bring death and disease to an entire race of people. And this was not the first time Kihran had done this.  _'And now I'm Kihran,'_  thought Malcolm _. 'I did this.'_  He dry heaved into the sink, having nothing left in him to come up. "Are you going to kill me?" he asked, the pain and the guilt that wasn't his clouding his judgement, making him hope that they were.

"Eventually." Kiva Dorian told him. "But as I said, Kihran, first you will finish what you started. Then you will pay for your treachery."

"You expect me to…" Malcolm asked quietly, not able to finish his sentence without a sob escaping.

"You destroyed your research Kihran, and escaped. And you infected five of my men with an unknown illness before you left. You deceived us, Kihran, and tried to kill us. What did you think would happen?"

"I can't…" Malcolm stuttered, his legs giving out from under him. He sunk to the floor, revolted with what they were asking him to do and knowing that he didn't have the knowledge to do what they asked even if he wanted to _. 'Enterprise will come for me.'_ he thought again, turning it into a mantra in his head. It made him feel better, remembering that he still had hope, that he wasn't really Kihran Ushku, he wasn't a murderer.  _'Enterprise will come for me. Enterprise will come for me.'_


	3. Guilt

Kihran stepped cautiously into the Captain's ready room. It had been over a week since he had come aboard Enterprise, and while nobody had been suspicious of him so far, Kihran knew that there was a strong possibility that his deception could be revealed at any moment. He had tried to keep a low profile this past week, avoiding personal conversations with the crew when possible, which was not difficult. Apparently, Lieutenant Reed had not had many close friends aboard the ship, and Kihran's desire for privacy did not seem unusual. He had even been avoiding Ensign Sato since his first encounter with her in the mess hall, despite his strong desire to get to know her better. This morning however the Captain had unexpectedly asked to meet with him. Since the brief discussion in the docking bay, Kihran had not had any real interaction with Captain Archer besides his bridge shifts, which he spent quietly monitoring his station, answering questions only when asked.

As he entered the room, Captain Archer stood waiting. "Malcolm," the Captain greeted him hesitantly.

"Captain," Kihran replied, trying to sound confident. Captain Archer stepped towards him as though to engage him in conversation, then decided against it, and retreated to the opposite end of the room. Something was clearly bothering him.

"Malcolm…" he began, only to stop again. "Malcolm, I guess you've realized that I've been avoiding you…

"Have you?" asked Kihran, surprised.

The Captain looked him in the eyes for the first time since he had entered the room. "The reason I called you here… is to apologize again."

"Sir...?" Kihran asked.

"I should have listened to you about stationing guards around sickbay. I didn't listen, and because of that, you were injured and Phlox was attacked. I should have trusted your instincts."

Kihran thought for a moment before deciding how to respond to the Captain's admission of guilt. "Is that still bothering you? You couldn't have known what would happen. Besides, I was not seriously hurt. It was just a fight. And the Doctor is OK. Besides…"

"It doesn't matter," the Captain stated forcefully. "You could have been seriously injured, Malcolm. And that alien could have done a lot more damage than he did. We didn't know anything about him or where he came from, and I practically handed him free reign of the ship."

"Captain," Kihran said solemnly, "You should not feel guilty for wanting to treat an injured person with respect, and you should certainly not feel guilty for wanting to trust people, and believe that people are good."

"People could have died because of my trust in people, Malcolm." Captain Archer said, very upset.

"But everything worked out OK." Kihran replied.

"Did it?" the Captain replied.

 _He knows_ , thought Kihran, tensing and feeling for the knife he had strapped to his arm under the sleeve of his uniform.

"After what happened in the expanse, and all of the missions we've done for Starfleet lately, I think I wanted to trust people again so much, to prove to myself and everybody else that we are a ship of exploration, not a warship… that I put the crew in danger. I'm not sure that I can just go back to exploring the galaxy peacefully Malcolm. We've encountered so many hostile aliens and tense situations… a part of me is always going to be suspicious now, to not want to trust people. And I'm afraid that that part of me is right."

Kihran let out a breath, relieved that he had not been forced to hurt anybody else. He was, however disturbed by the Captain's confession.  _'How will he feel if he finds out what I have done? Will he feel responsible for the torture of his officer?'_ Guilt surged through Kihran for a moment, but he composed himself quickly.

"Captain…" he said slowly, "It is my job to protect this crew from hostile aliens, and to ensure the security of this ship. And while that should be one of your concerns, your main concern should be exploring, meeting new species… promoting diplomacy and peace throughout the galaxy. You made the right decision, not posting a security team. You can't greet people with hostility and suspicion. This was one incident. There will be many more, I'm sure, which will end much more peacefully than this one did. Give it time, Captain. You'll figure things out."

Captain Archer was quiet for a moment, moved by Kihran's statement. Kihran was quiet as well, the small twinge of guilt he had felt now beginning to consume him.

"Thank you, Malcolm," the Captain stated with a small smile. "I think I needed that."

Kihran stood straight for a moment before the Captain dismissed him. He turned and left quickly, wanting to get back to his quarters as quickly as possible so that nobody would see his tears.

* * *

_The girl could not have been any more than six years old. She crawled towards him slowly, unable to stand or walk, every movement bringing her more pain. She was screaming, crying out into the night for somebody to help her, but no help would come. It was too late, he knew. There was nothing he could do for her now. She didn't recognize him, but then she wouldn't. She couldn't even recognize her own parents anymore, her delirium was so intense. Large parts of her brain had liquefied, as had her other internal organs. He could see that her once full head of hair had thinned and fallen out, and her skin was peeling away in places, burned and raw. She was screaming and he wanted to help her. He wanted to put things right, and make her healthy again. To bring her parents back from the dead. He wanted to resurrect the entire crumbling ruin that stood before him, once a prosperous and lively city. But it was impossible. The damage had been done. So he watched in horror, as the young girl died an agonizingly painful death, her screams echoing in his brain. He had done this. He had created this plague which had destroyed this little girl, and everything she knew. As he watched, the young girl's screams stopped and he knew that she was dead. There were no survivors._

Kihran cried out as he jolted awake, sweating profusely. The sheets were tangled around him, clinging to him. As his awareness returned and he looked around Malcolm's quarters, he began to sob uncontrollably, the dream refusing to fade from his memory. After his meeting with the Captain, Kihran's guilt had not dissipated. It had followed him for the rest of the day, as he tried to put it out of his mind with work on the phase cannons. He had appeared so upset that one of his team had insisted that he go back to his quarters and rest, and that the Armoury could survive without him.

' _Pull yourself together,'_  Kihran thought.  _'You shouldn't feel guilty for anything. Kihran Ushku was the one who killed that girl, not you. You are Malcolm Reed, the Chief Security officer onboard the starship Enterprise. Kihran Ushku is being punished for his crimes. Let him feel guilty, not you.'_

Somehow those thoughts did not bring him the comfort he had hoped they would.

* * *

"Time to wake up!"

Malcolm awoke with a start as the guard shoved him harshly off of the small bed and onto the hard ground of the lab. He coughed roughly, small spatters of blood landing on the floor underneath him before he was yanked up by his hair and deposited back on the bed. "Good morning to you, too." he said defiantly to his tormentor, whose name he now knew was Rakat. He was rewarded with a hard smack across the face, reopening a variety of cuts and scrapes and leaving another bruise on his already mangled face.

"Kiva Dorian expects results today. You have played him for a fool for too long, and I don't expect that he'll tolerate you much longer. When he finishes with you, I will make you pay for your treachery in ways you can't even imagine." Rakat told him.

"When you finally catch the real Kihran Ushku, I'll be glad to see you do that." Malcolm shot back. At that, Rakat shot him a murderous look and stalked out of the small laboratory, the door sealing shut behind him.

' _So begins another day in hell'_  thought Malcolm. He had lost track of how long he had been here. It felt like an eternity. It was only the continued insistence that he was not Kihran and the belief that his ship would come for him and the real Kihran would pay that had gotten Malcolm through so far. Each day passed slowly and seemed endless, the same as the one before it. It always began the same, with him being woken up by Rakat, then left to wait in the lab alone with his misery. Today though there was no wait at all, as the door reopened and another Karatesh entered the lab, this one thinner and taller than Rakat, but no less mean-looking. His name was Tirq and while he appeared menacing, Malcolm knew that Tirq was no threat to him. His presence in the lab had nothing to do with torturing him. Tirq was a scientist.

"Good day, Kihran." the alien told Malcolm as he stepped into the room.

"Not one word of that statement is true." Malcolm shot back.

The alien's responded with a sigh and a shake of his head. "I had hoped that you might be in a more co-operative mood today, Kihran. Dorian is getting very tired of your foolishness."

"So I've been told." Malcolm responded.

In the time that he had been in the lab, Tirq had been a near constant presence. Tirq had apparently been working with Kihran developing the bio-weapon before he escaped, and each day attempted to get Malcolm to help him continue with the research. His attempts always ended the same way: with Malcolm's insistence that he was not Kihran, and his refusal to help with anything. When Tirq's form of persuasion had no effect, Rakat would return to take a more forceful approach. Malcolm was certain that this day would be no different.

"I wish that you would help me, Kihran." Tirq told him. "Once this is finished, there is still a possibility that Dorian will let you go." Tirq began his research for the day, pulling a variety of equipment out of the cupboards, setting up new chemical samples to be tested.

"Do you really believe that?" Malcolm asked incredulously.

"I do," Tirq replied. "I have to."

Malcolm could not help but be confused by what Tirq had said.  _'Is he a prisoner here as well?_ ' he wondered.

"There is some food here for you, Kihran." Tirq told him. "Rakat brought it in for you. Eat, and then you can help me with these new tests."

"You know I won't." Malcolm replied stubbornly, attempting to pull himself into a sitting position on the bed. "I couldn't even if I wanted to…"

"… Because you are not Kihran. You are Malcolm Reed of the starship Enterprise." Tirq finished his sentence for him. "I've heard it before, Kihran. This lie is getting you nowhere. Why do you insist on continuing with it?"

"Because it is the truth. Why won't anybody believe me?" Malcolm asked desperately, beginning to feel nauseous.

"Why would we believe you, Kihran?" Tirq asked angrily. "You are known throughout many worlds for your lies and your deceit. You have already lied to all of us once Kihran. Why should we believe anything you say now, especially such an outrageous lie?"

Tirq turned away from his research and stepped towards Malcolm, placing a hand on Malcolm's shoulder. "Please don't make me have to call for Rakat again, Kihran. I hate to watch you suffer this way, because of your own stubbornness."

Malcolm could hear real kindness in Tirq's voice, which made Malcolm cry. The thought of spending another minute with Rakat terrified him, but there was nothing he could do to prevent it from happening. He could not help design a weapon that would destroy thousands of people. Even if he wanted to, he simply didn't have the knowledge that Kihran possessed to do it.

"I'm sorry Tirq… but I can't help you." Saying the words felt physically painful for Malcolm.

Tirq was disappointed, Malcolm could tell. But he recovered from his disappointment quickly and turned back to his research. "I will hold Rakat off as long as I can, Kihran. At least eat something. It will make you feel a bit better."

So Malcolm did as Tirq had asked him and ate quietly, waiting for the inevitable moment when Tirq would call for Rakat. This day would be the same as the others he knew. But soon things would change. He just had to be patient _. 'Enterprise will come for me. They'll straighten everything out. And then everyone will believe me when I tell them the truth. I am Malcolm Reed. Kihran Ushku should be here, not me. I don't deserve to be punished for his crimes.'_

But as time passed, those thoughts brought him less comfort than they should have.


End file.
